


I can still hear your voice

by Blepbean



Series: Weird drabbles 101 [8]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A Silent Voice Crossover, Angst, Attempted Suicide, M/M, Post-Canon, Tried to make it work with Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 05:44:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blepbean/pseuds/Blepbean
Summary: Don’t leavePlease





	I can still hear your voice

**Author's Note:**

> Damn... been a while lmao, if you’re from amino then please read all my other fics bc I need validation (:  
> Anyways, back on my bullshit, back on that klance shit and train. This fic is basically the bit near the end of a silent voice, the attempt suicide but I tried to make it vld.  
> Also I’m tired so like I can’t proofread this if I do I will literally die so :)
> 
> Kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated

It’s a beautiful night.

 

It’s hot, really hot. It’s the type of weather that has the air hot and sticky, sweat making your shirt stick to your skin and even a simple gentle breeze could feel like the touch from the very heavens. The night is very much alive, endorses calling out to strangers, yelling about their quality of their food or the cheap price of their souvenirs.

 

Lance sighs, plucking his blue loose T-shirt took down, wiping the sweat on his forehead. It’s bright, the whole festival is bright and packed, from humans to strange slime aliens walking around the crowded street to weird y’all being with eight tiny eyes. Everyone, everyone from every corner of the very cosmos is here, on the same street laughing and talking.

 

He quickens his pace, walking closer to Keith as he nudged his shoulder. He gets his attention, mouth opened as he gives him a puzzled look. He pulls him by his hand close to somewhere where there’s less people. 

 

It’s quiet now, stillness settling in. He could feel the pleasant breeze past by, the moon hides behind the grey clouds, it’s darker now. He can barely make out the features of keith's face as he struggles to piece together his words. It feels like he should let them talk first, he always talks and talks, never letting anyone talk.

 

“I—“ he stops himself, Keith’s still looking at him all puzzled and it hits him and he feels all stupid. 

 

It’s hard to piece things on what he’s going to say, he fumbled and stutters and he’s biting his lower lip. He’s bad with words, bad with sounding it all out and making it clear and making it all sense. Maybe he should let Keith speak first, take the first step. He’s bad with words, he’s grateful that Keith can’t hear them.

 

_ “Are you enjoying the festival?” _

 

His hand signs were probably messy and pieced together differently. It felt stiff and awkward. He’s kicking himself and he’s screaming in the inside with the way Keith’s looking at him allow weirded out. He should’ve never said anything, should’ve never pulled him somewhere there was no one but them and the hot night.

 

But Keith bursts out laughing, chuckling and holding his stomach and Lance is left wondering what he did wrong. 

 

“I’m sorry! I probably never have never done anything.” 

 

Keith sighs, looking out into the cloudy sky.

 

_ “You mixed up a couple of words, that’s all.”  _

 

“ _ Sorry.” _

 

Lance scratches his cheeks, he feels the altean marking, it feels soft and gentle. It glows a blue hue, Keith reaches out, pointing towards it. Keith then pulls back his hands, face all focused as he scratches the back of his neck.

 

_ “Does it do anything, the markings?” _

 

He shakes his head,  simple no. It’s just a mark that Allura left, nothing compared to her being the very fabric of the timelines and universes itself, no, it’s far more beautiful and personal than that. It reminds him that she was here, loved her, touched his face and told him that he was going to be fine while she isn’t.

 

She let him go.

 

Now he’s free to go.

 

It wakes him up at night sometimes, plagued his thoughts in a weird sort of way. He looks out to the festival, he can see Pidge or Shiro anywhere, they lost them, oh well. Lance tries tries to get back on track, the conversation it all weird and broken.

 

_ “I want to ask you something.” _

 

He’s holding his breath, biting his lip as he wishes he could take back whatever he signed which was probably messy and stranger. He should’ve taken more attention to Keith teaching him how to hand sign, he did it all for him.

 

Just for him.

 

_ “Have you… ever…” _

 

_ “What is it Lance just get on with it.” _

 

_ “Shut up I’m trying here.” _

 

He pauses, imagining it all in his head on how he would react as he figures out how to sign his words properly, thinking over if it’s too short or too long. Maybe Keith would give him a puzzled look, say that he probably meant something else and didn’t sign it properly.

 

Yeah, something like that.

 

Anxiety is gripping every single fibre from him, his hands are frozen and stuck. His secret that he wants to get out is suddenly whisked away by his mind, thrown to the abyss as he struggles to move. He blinks the tears away from his eyes, he hopes Keith pretended it never existed, push it away, carry on like it never happened.

 

“I… um….”

 

He fumbles with his fingers, Keith must be really hating him right now.

 

_ “Actually I can tell it to you tomorrow.” _

 

Goddammit.

 

He could’ve said it, release it into a stress of quick hand movements that Keith hopes he didn’t read. Lance didn’t rush on and spoke with no thought, he hesitated and waited and this is what he gets, waiting for too long and watched the opportunity fly by. It’s like a perfect balance he can never find.

 

He didn’t mean those words, those hand signs. Take it all back again, rewind, reset, pretend like he actually meant something else and watch Keith’s face either turn with disgust or confusion.

 

This is what he wanted to say:

 

_ “I… don’t know how… how to feels about you, I think…” _

 

_ “I think…” _

 

He still hasn’t figured out the last part, he’s working on it, analysing every single heart skip or every conversation they had which left Lance kicking himself cover the time he messed up with the hand signs but Keith simply laughs and chuckles on how stupid he is.

 

Keith is looking at him, all disappointed and confused, maybe even sad. That’s what he’s feeling too. 

 

_ “I’m sorry I made us lose the others.” _

 

_ “I have to go to sleep actually, I have to leave early, sorry.” _

 

It hits him, like a slow train wreck.

 

He’s leaving, leaving him behind one last time, the end to the end of it all. He’s going up into the cosmos which Lance grew to both hate and love. Keith is leaving, to join and help others and it leaves him all bitter and aching all over. He never got it out, it’s too late, way too late.

 

He stomachs it, biting his lower lip as he nods.

 

_ “Okay.. I’ll go tell the others, don’t stay up too late.” _

 

Keith smiles at him, it’s sort of sad and forced. 

 

_ “So this is it.” _

 

Lance’s eyes linger on the way Keith’s hands move, it’s shy and hesitant. Like he doesn't want to leave, stay a little longer for the speech about the Altean that saved us then watch the fireworks bloom and blossom.

 

_ “So this is it.” _

 

_ “Goodbye Lance.” _

 

He didn’t even get to sign him back.

 

He watches him leave for the final time, back into the crowd full of humans and weird beings. Then he’s left alone, watching the sky clear up as the moon once again shines again.

 

He goes back to the crowd.

 

He pushes through, surrounded by weird beings, from tall to small. He tries to get on his tippy toes to look at the vendors where Pidge could be striking a deal. Everything is bright, too bright and full of colour, it’s hard to see.

 

“Lance!”

 

He remembers that voice, he walks to the side, there, he spots Pidge with Shiro, sitting on top of a crate. Both of them are smiling, eating what looks to be a popsicle, with weird purple goo and eyeballs.

 

“What is that!” He gets up close, squatting down in front of them as he points to whatever this is. It doesn’t look that bad, but the way the goo moves and somehow slimes backup is uncanny and weird. It’s even reflecting the bright lanterns that keeps changing colours.

 

“We have one for Keith,” Shiro pushes another one at him, “know where he is?”

 

Keith, Keith  _ Keith.  _ His name sticks to his mind, trying to answer the question but is left standing and left raw and open, not entirely broken and bleeding out in the floor. More like a graze, a bleeding wound that stings and hurt but won’t in a couple of weeks.

 

“He’s going to sleep,” he mumbles, eyes switching to the walls sprayed with graffiti to the giant statue of Allura, tall and huge, east to spot even in the dark.

 

“He was… tired yeah, tired. He doesn’t want to feel fried when he leaves for tomorrow.” It makes him think about what he was wearing, a dark shirt with a faded logo of an ‘ _ emo”  _ band that Lance teased Keith about, or the cargo pants which kind of looked good on him, it says  _ Keith  _ without having that weird crop top jacket and black shirt and gloves.

 

“Really? I was going to give one of these to him!” Pidge sighs, fixing her glasses as she chews down on the popsicle. “I’m going to miss him.”

 

“Same.” Shiro mumbles.

 

“Me too.”

 

But they don’t understand the  _ meaning  _ of it all. How it’ll leave only a scrape or a bruise but he wants it to be far more than that. Or maybe he can stay, only for a few more hours, stop the inevitable, stay and watch the fireworks with us Keith.

 

Please.

 

“Crap!” Pidge suddenly stands up, groaning as she almost drops which Shiro takes off her. He palms her pocket, then takes out her backpack, rummaging it through quickly.

 

“Lance,” her eyes pierce him, “can you get my camera, please, it won’t take long.” 

 

“I uh—“

 

“It’s at Keith’s place, we were playing DND, won’t take long, hurry.” She throws him the keys, he fumbled with it as he almost drops it to the ground.

 

“But—“

 

“You’ll be back before the fireworks! I promise, please, please, please, please.” He's not paying attention to her anymore. He’ll probably miss it all, the myriads of colours that explodes into the night sky all to remember Allura, giving herself up to the cosmos. He’ll miss it, it leaves a salty taste inside his mouth.

 

But it means a little more time to talk to Keith, hopefully he’s still awake, sitting on the sofa as he blindly stares at the tv, a random show on to pass the time. Just a little more time, a quick hello or a conversation. A quick glance. A quick smile and a quick one last goodbye as he closes the door on his way out.

 

Just once more, quick little thing. 

 

“Lance?”

 

“Yeah, yeah I’ll do it.” He tries to sound annoyed, groaning as he pushes through the crowds where it died down a little. He pushes through it all, feeling his grey shorts stick to his legs. It’s hot, he’s groaning and groaning and whining but he’s looking forward to seeing Keith one more time, just one more.

 

He’s far away from the festival, walking down the steep steps, passing by a group of little children running up and down. The city is quiet and still and it’s weird, he’s not used to it. There’s a couple of cars zooming by as he reaches the street, a few people walking alone, probably off to a night shift or going home to sleep for eternity. 

 

Lance takes his time to think, settle down his thoughts so that it doesn’t come out bursting out and spiraling out of control. He wonders what he’ll say to Keith. Maybe just a simple sign, a hello. Maybe he won’t  _ even _ be awake, he’ll probably be passed out on the couch. He’ll probably look at him, hesitate to say out words that he knows Keith won’t hear and it kind of  _ hurts  _ thinking about it.

 

_ Don’t go _ . He’s thinking, like a plead that he knows is rather useless as he climbs the stairs, staring out to the blinking street light. He doesn’t want him to go, he doesn’t want Keith to leave and it’s selfish, it  _ is.  _ It feels like he’s moved on, passed the grieving and feeling your very heart torn and apart and took a step forwards before Lance can.

 

He’s here now, just a quick slot into the keyhole. He’s hesitating, he doesn’t know why. It’s not that hard, push it in and jiggle it a little bit and turn the doorknob. It’s not that hard, but it feels like it aches and burns. It’s the last time he’ll see him, alone, just the two of them. It’s slowly settling in, he wants time to come into a halt and let himself spill all the secrets to Keith before he leaves.

 

He opens the door.

 

It creaks, painful to the ear. It’s dark, the only light coming in through the balcony. There’s weird food wrappers and ramen noodles scattered across the floor as he steps into the living room, flicking on the light. It reveals more messes, there’s a character sheet on the table, a packet of chip on the floor, soda cans and random pieces of paper. It’s all on the floor, scattered, not a single thought about it.

 

He feels his phone buzz.

 

_ From Pidgeon: _

_ Shiro wants me to take some photos from the ceremony, thanks for getting it for me otherwise he would have killed me. _

 

He smiles at the text, he looks around first. Here it is, on the sofa, sitting, waiting. He picks it up, turning it on as he hears a quiet chime. Pidge doesn’t mind if he takes a couple of photos does he? He makes sure he puts the flash on, taking random shots as he walks away from the living room, into the hallway where there’s a random shoe and a sock.

 

Maybe he should take a photo of Keith, he might be in his bedroom. He knows he’ll  _ hate  _ him but it’ll be like a memoir, something to keep. He takes another photo as he gets closer to the balcony, it clicks, but then he spots a foot.

 

Lance takes another, closer as he angles it correctly.

 

He drops the camera to the ground.

 

“Hey, Keith.” He mumbles, closer and closer, it feels like the hallway stretches on for miles and miles. He watches him take a step like he would when he’s taking the stairs, but this time it’s on the balcony railings.

 

“Keith, I don’t think you should be doing that.” No answer, none, only silence. He feels his heart thrum and beat against his ribcage, he can hear it echo inside his ears. The sky behind him I suddenly filled with beautiful myriads of colours, bright and colourful. Sparks of yellows and reds and greens.

 

But then it dawns on him. 

 

It feels like it’s too late.

 

He runs after him. He stumbles and falls and kicks over a couple of chairs as he reaches for his hand.

 

 _“_ Keith!” He’s yelling and there’s tears in his eyes. He knows yelling won’t help because he’s _deaf,_ can’t hear you. But he’s finding himself doing so. 

 

“Keith!” Try again. Maybe this is all a dream. A simple bad night,are that’s dawning on him and this isn’t  _ real.  _ He’ll wake up and spot Keith leaving out into the cosmos, leaving him behind in earth. It feels like time itself is fighting against him and speeding this all up, it’s  _ hurting _ him.

 

His feet and his whole body aches as he struggles to stand up. Run towards the balcony. Run towards Keith and push him away. Don’t die, live, live just for me and he’ll do anything for you.

 

Don’t.

 

Die

 

Please

 

Keith

 

“Keith!” He screams it, it hurts his throat.

 

Arms spread forward.

 

The bedsheet blocks his view.

 

Then he’s gone.

 

Gone like the wind.

 

His heart falls to his chest.

 

He might have fallen to his death, died and made it into the headlines.  _ Paladin of Voltron commits suicide on Allura’s day? What were the hidden intentions? Suicide linked to bullying?  _ He can just picture it all, reproduced, made over and over again all just for the attention and clicks. 

 

He doesn’t even know  _ why  _ Keith wants to die, to jump out of his balcony and fall to his death. No, he can’t think how horrible it is. It’s plaguing his very mind, making him grit his teeth. 

 

What if he didn’t get the camera? It scares him, the thought is swallowing him up and tearing him open. More so than the other ones. It’s leaving him aching all over, more painful than any injury there is. 

 

His mind is filled with what ifs, what could’ve happen, regrets, decision, it’s all there, filling up his mind.

 

Don’t

 

Let 

 

Go

 

He’s  _ lucky _ , so goddamn lucky. If he hesitated, if he was just a  _ millisecond   _ late then all the things he would’ve thought would have come true. It’s rather quiet and a still night, the fireworks poppin off in distance and it’s all bright and beautiful. But if he doesn’t save him, pull him up then the fireworks and bright, beautiful colours would kill him later, associating him with a dead  _ Keith. _

 

Mind fuzzy and arm aching all over. He has him by one of his hand, just hanging on by the tiniest piece of thread. Lance looks at him, his ocean eyes full of tears as he meets Keith’s dying ones, reflecting every colour, every spark of firework or every tear that falls from his eyes.

 

There’s a pond, a lake. He wonders if it’s deep enough. But Pidge said that hitting water from  _ something _ stories would feel like hitting cement. What is that  _ something?  _ That number? If he only didn’t interrupt her, if he only didn’t close out his ears and pretend he was deaf and interrupt her like he does with the others. Then, he would know the answer, the number of stories.

 

If the stars, the cosmos are looking down on Lance. He wishes for every, single ounce of strength left, a single thread of luck, anything,  _ anything  _ to help him stop Keith from falling to the ground. He promises, a pinky promise, he will always listen, stop pretending to be deaf and interrupt and stop speaking first and never listening or hearing others.

 

_ Please _ .

 

His heart skips a beat as he almost lets go. He quickly gets his other hand, pulling with all his strength to keep him up. Don’t leave, not just yet. Lance will do anything for Keith, he can leave, he can go back to the cosmos and leave him wondering all the things he would’ve done if he just said the right words. 

 

Don’t leave.

 

Don’t leave like you did when you said we were a good team, when you said to meet me in your room because you said you wanted to do something. Keith ended up ditching him and making up excuses.

 

Don’t leave like you did when you turned your back, left Voltron, joined the blade of mormora. Keith left them stranded, but especially  _ Lance,  _ he’s the one that felt the impact of it all. It felt like darkness shoulder him when Keith turned his back and left him.

 

Don’t leave when we were playing monsters and man, just like DND. When you said you were going to play another one but ended up sighing and groaning and ended up leaving mid game.

 

Please don’t leave

 

Please don’t  _ die _

 

He has so much to live for: Kosmo, family, friends,  _ me,  _ live for me of you can’t live for yourself 

 

He can leave, fine for him, as long as he’s  _ alive  _ and  _ breathing  _ and not  _ dead.  _ Fine, he can go back to space and turn his back on him one last time. This type of  _ leaving  _ is fine, but the other ones cuts a whole and leaves him bleeding and stinging all over.

 

Don’t.

 

Leave.

 

So he pulls him up with all of his last remaining strength. Keith looks at Lance

like he doesn’t deserved to get saved, leave him dead and bleeding. There’s tears in his eyes too, both of them are crying too. That’s good, right? It feels like everything is slow and painful, his body is aching all over as he manages to pull Keith up again.

 

But in doing so he’s starts falling too.

 

That’s fine, anything for  _ him.  _ As long as he’s alive and breathing. Anything for  _ him,  _ he can throw away his life for him with no hesitation, would Keith do the same for him? Probably not, that’s fine, it’ll always be like that fro Lance.

 

He catches the glimpse of the pretty fireworks, all so bright and colourful and blinding to the eyes. Fireworks, that’s what he’s going to remember this night with, he probably won’t, he’ll probably die to his death.

 

But he can still see Keith, looking at him from the balcony as he falls, crying, he thinks he’s shouting for help, maybe calling for an ambulance.

 

Would falling into the murky the water feel like cement?

 

He’s going to find it out now.

 

His vision fades, it’s warm and cold and soft at the same time.

 

Blood blooms from his body.

 

And he hears sirens in the distance.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
